


He played his role

by akane171



Category: Gundam SEED Destiny
Genre: Angst, Athrun deals with himself, F/M, Humor, Post GSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 21:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7123981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akane171/pseuds/akane171
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the two wars, Athrun Zala realized that he simply sucked at being a hero and decided he needed a change. He ended up in the middle of nowhere and focused on his vegetable garden, fishing boat and leaking roof. Athrun also hoped everyone would leave him alone. Too bad his friends had other plans…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not a hero anymore

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by Hall1990.  
> Posted also on my ff.net profile.

The weather was simply beautiful. Azure blue sky with few a fluffy, sheep-like clouds; lazy wind, hot and blazing sun. Seriously, nobody would hate weather like this. 

Except maybe one angry individual, who was currently kneeling on a roof and apparently making… holes in it. 

The mighty Athrun Zala was stripped from his T-shirt, sweating heavily under the sun. The famous Justice ex-pilot was as pink as his Gundam. Some people could think, that the wise genetic engineers accessorized Coordinators with skin immune to sunburns. Yes, they did. What they didn’t predict, was the birth of a Coordinator who was crazy enough to spend weeks under the hot, frying sun. There was no skin in this universe that would not suffer from it. So Mr. Zala, who had a perfect white and soft complexion, that could make every girl green with envy, was tanning like a tomato (the perfect shade of rotting red). Or like a crab. 

A big, pissed off, sweaty, bruised hands, sore back kind of crab, who was angrily hammering and cursing loudly.

He could be the brilliant pilot and mighty Coordinator, who could add 2084365 and 3834936 in his head in a second, who could gain the perfect score on the shooting range with his eyes closed, but operating a hammer? He might… lack experience in it.

The tool hit the roof, missing the nail. Athrun glared at it with well deserved hate.

“Yes, Zala, what a fantastic idea. Bang!” He growled, hitting finally the nail. “Let’s leave everything behind, bang!. Your life, bang! Your WELL paid job, bang! Your social status, bang! Your friends, bang! Just to figure out that you can’t, bang!, fix a freaking roof, boing?” 

“FUCK!” He yelled when he accidentally hit his hand.

Athrun dropped the hammer. The tool hit the roof, slipped and fell off. After two seconds it collided with something resulting in a loud crash… 

Hmm, did he park his car there? 

He took a deep, calming breath and looked at the beautiful view spread in the front of him. Mountains on the horizon, green forests around his house, a lake and a pier ahead of him, his vegetable garden on the left.

“I’m not pissed off.” Athrun said flatly, massaging his throbbing as seven hells hand. “No, not at all. I’m calm like a fucking breeze caressing forsaken, dumb as hell, branches. Totally. Fuck you.”

Maybe it wasn’t so weird that Mr. Zala was talking to himself. It didn’t have to mean he was in a poor mental condition. People sometimes talk to themselves when they're alone, yes?

The problem - Athrun wasn’t alone. 

Ten meters below, to his oblivious self, Miriallia Haw was watching and listening to him with her mouth wide open. While he was still trying to communicate with the damned universe, she fished out her phone and dialed a number.

“I’ve found him.” Mir said with a hushed tone. “He’s getting worse.”

***

I don’t want to be a hero anymore.

Athrun could recall the exact moment when this thought exploded in his brain.

It happened in the middle of the first international anniversary of The Second Bloody Valentine War. All the most influential leaders, commanders, war veterans, celebrities, attention whores and journalists were present. 

Apparently, he was the hottest topic for the damned media. The day before PLANT announced officially that he was chosen as the ambassador in Orb. He started in few a weeks. The media went mad about this news, speculated about the decision and his motives. Was he a proper person for this position? The resentments on both sides of the conflict were still fresh, peace was strong but strained. 

Was Athrun Zala ready for this?

Tabloids dug up rumors about his Alex Dino alter ego and old, possible (affirmed by some sources) romance with Representative Athha. It literally broke all kinds of social media. It looked like the world’s population was divided into two camps. One saw him like the perfect suitor for the world’s most famous Natural princess; the second rooted for a handsome and popular Scandinavian prince. The journalists literally occupied Athrun’s every free moment, overwhelming him with questions and he was polite enough to answer them all.

Yes, he is ready to take the position of PLANT’s ambassador in Orb. Yes, he’s spoken with Representative Athha. Yes, they have been friends since the first war. No comments about that.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her dancing with that Scandinavian bastard. Four times.

After the war they were occupied by their responsibilities, trying hard to keep the world in one piece. There was no time for solving personal issues when the world was falling apart around them, was there? They both were avoiding talking about their problems like the plague. They were on friendly terms and Athrun was sure it was going to change for the better after his arrival to Orb, he hoped, while talking to a journalist and watching Cagalli and Sven dancing. For the fifth time.

And then, the attractive, brown eyed and green haired journalist asked, “So, after a year, how are you feeling as the great hero?”

Athrun opened his mouth to throw her a typical, meaningless answer but no sound came out. He didn’t know what broke the barricade and caused an avalanche of thoughts in his brain. The word hero? The view of Sven’s hand on Cagalli’s small back? Or maybe the journalist’s green hair reminded him of Nicol? All of this?

He felt like something crackled suddenly inside his head and fell into pieces like a broken glass.

Athrun closed his mouth and frowned. Him? A great hero? Who the fuck she was kidding? 

Let’s see. The First War. He lost his friends (Miguel, Rusty, Nicol), he killed someone’s friends (Tolle and how many other and nameless people?), almost killed his friend (Kira) and tried to attempt suicide (how many times exactly?). His father? Kinda didn’t listen to him and then died in front of him like a parody of some twisted Greek tragedy. He also betrayed his nation, he had a good reason, but technically he was a traitor. And then he almost blew his ass up (ok, along with a big, evil cannon but whatever) and was saved… by a girl in a pink Gundam. Adding to these, the surprise of his life, when Lacus dumped him for his BEST friend - it didn’t look like a heroic fairy tale. 

But ok, he killed but he also saved lives, he was a kid back then and he has learned from his mistakes, right?

How about fucking no. Remember the second war?

Firstly he betrayed Orb and then ZAFT again (was that making him a triple traitor? Wow, he was good at it), because the guilty conscience was eating his ass. He got manipulated by Durandal like a brainless puppet on a string. Again. He was emotionally unstable and got his ass kicked by Kira… and then Shinn (no comments). He almost got Meyrin killed and he didn’t save Meer. He failed his friends and he hurt Cagalli. He knew she understood his motives but did it change the fact that he screwed up? Was there a single moment during the second war when he was not manipulated? By Durandal, Meer, his father’s ghost, even Lacus? 

Oh yes, a great hero, indeed. A man who didn’t know who he was anymore or what he really wanted. Under that stinky pile of crap, guilt and doubting in his own abilities, was there Athrun Zala or just an empty shell, run by the desire of meeting other people’s expectations? He wasn’t sure anymore.

How he could be a hero and a leader, if he didn’t know that?

Well, he couldn’t. 

It was also good that he helped to end two wars but he was also a persona non grata. In PLANT because he was a traitor after all and in normal circumstances he should have had a trial. But well, after the wars, PLANT needed heroes more than traitors and murderers and wasting his heroic potential (and cute, photographic face) would be a shame. Though, there was a loud group of angry people who demanded a punishment for him, and seriously, he couldn’t blame them. 

As for Orb, maybe he didn’t betray the country (he’s never been a citizen) but some speculated about his Alex Dino alter ego and his influence on the blonde representative. For some people who loved conspiracy theories it was a typical example of a stinky spy affair with him trying to seduce their beloved princess. He just tried or succeeded? Who knew? The speculations were running wild and he couldn’t blame anyone. But he stopped watching the news.

He knew that kicking his ass far away from PLANT was a compromise. Away from ZAFT, gundams and chairmen he could not fuck up again, right? It could also stop the PLANT’s media from chewing his ass for awhile (he hoped). In ORB he would not hold real power, only a representative position. Everyone should be happy, yes? No. Athrun was sure that his every meeting with Cagalli, official or personal it didn’t matter, would stir an avalanche of gossips and speculations. Was he a heartless and cold bastard, who tried seduce the princess, or was he a harmless and romantic fool? Orb tabloids were going to have so much fun in inventing new labels for the new ambassador (out of the frying pan and into the fire, huh?).

Cagalli shrugged it off, saying he should not have been worrying about idiots. But she was going to stand in the middle of the shitstorm of speculations, accusations and gossips. Did he really want to add this to her already full plate? He wanted to help and protect her but… did she really need that? She was ruling the country on her own, like a fearless Lioness, loved by her nation. But the critics were there, ready to point her every mistake or a failure.

And no, he wasn’t the favorite of Orb’s elite and aristocracy. They have never failed to mention that Mr. Sven Eriksson was a perfect gentleman, brilliant leader, charismatic peace lover, human rights defender and oh well, a Natural from an old and prestigious family. As for Athrun and his fucked up CV, he didn’t even hope to get an invitation to the “Candidate for Representative Athha’s husband” interview. And well, he couldn’t blame them.

Conclusion? He wasn’t a hero, he simply SUCKED at being one. So, maybe it was a perfect time for retirement and being true to himself? The world wasn’t ready for his screwed up heroism. Hell, he wasn’t. Haumea knew what he would blow up if another war broke out. He snorted darkly at that thought.

The journalist glanced at Athrun confused. He was silent for some time, staring coldly into space and making some creepy faces.

“Erm, Mr. Zala? Everything’s fine?”

He shivered and looked at her with empty, tired eyes. The sound of the broken glass was crackling in his head loudly. 

“You asked how I feel as the hero. Well, I feel like a big pile of crap. Excuse me.” He smiled sardonically and left her speechless.

Athrun came out of the ballroom without saying goodbye to anyone, got into his car and drove back to his apartment.

The note, in which he resigned from the position of the ambassador he sent to the Chairman the next day, was short. The mail he sent to his friends was even shorter.

I need some time alone.

And he disappeared into thin air.

*

Speculations about the ex-Justice Pilot, don’t fade away. It’s been a week since Athrun Zala’s resignation and there is still no trace of the famous hero. The last interview with him is the most watched video on…

Kira sighed and turned the sound off. He’s already seen the interview more times than he could count and the last part always made him shiver. During the interview Athrun turned from the person he knew and loved like a brother to someone who Kira couldn’t recognize. And it made him concerned for his friend like nothing else before.

“We need to find him.” He said to the people gathered in his and Lacus’ mansion. 

The Pink Princess smiled to him, Miriallia shrugged; Dearka scratched the back of his neck, avoiding looking at the Natural girl.

“Why? The bastard wants to be left alone. I don’t see a problem here.” Yzak’s face on the monitor scowled (along with Cagalli, he connected with them by the videophone). 

“We can’t leave him alone Yzak, he is our friend and he needs our help.” Lacus calmly looked at the silver head. “You saw the interview, when was the last time you heard him saying he wasn’t fine? Athrun’s always fine.”

Yzak rolled his eyes but said nothing.

“He is not here in PLANT, I thought maybe he settled somewhere in Orb?”

Cagalli didn’t comment for few moments. “I don’t know, even if, he didn’t contact me and I didn’t look for him.” She said simply.

Kira furrowed his brows, he couldn’t read his sister’s neutral expression. He’d stopped getting what was happening between her and his best friend some time ago. It was… too complicated for his liking. Too bad their relationship didn’t go so smoothly like his and Lacus’.

“Well, we think we should start looking in Orb.”

Yzak snorted. “Do you really think it’s going be so easy? Zala obviously doesn’t want to be found, so leave him alone, for fuck’s sake! I have enough of this bullshit, I’m not wasting my time on this bastard.” He ended the connection.

Kira made a face. He didn’t know what exactly he expected from Yzak, a little cooperation maybe? But not this. 

“Joule’s right.” 

The Freedom pilot’s jaw fell wide open. “Cagalli?!”

The Orb Representative shrugged her shoulders. “Sorry, I need to go. I'm meeting with the Scandinavian delegation.” She waved and also ended the connection.

Kira and Lacus exchanged grim looks. Scandinavian delegation? It seemed the things were getting… serious. They sighed and focused their eyes on Mir. The photographer winced and raised her hands defensively. 

Gods, did they know they looked really creepy when they were smiling like that?

“Ok, don’t stare at me. I’ll look for him, I have nothing else to do and I’m sure a fresh picture of him will make me rich.”

“Oh, I’m sure Dearka will help you.”

Elsman spit his tea and coughed violently. “What?” He squeaked, taking a glimpse of Mir’s darkening face.

Lacus raised her eyebrows. “Is there a problem? Something’s wrong between you two? Again?”

“No, there is nothing wrong between us. Absolutely nothing.” Miriallia said coldly and Dearka gulped.

“Uhmm, yes, nothing. Plus, I have no time to spare. Seriously, I work my ass off. Yzak is a slave driver.” He laughed awkwardly.

“I know.” Lacus smiled and tilted her head. “That’s why you are on leave, starting tomorrow.”

Dearka stopped laughing. “I am?” He asked slowly, sensing troubles in the air.

“Yes, Yzak should receive documents any moment now.” She elegantly took a sip.

Dearka turned pale. Mir was going to kill him. Lacus and Kira were going to kill him if he said no. And…

His phone started to ring angrily.

And Yzak was going to kill him.

Yay to be him!

*

“Are you sure you want it, kid?” The real estate agent asked.

They were standing in a front of a big, single-story house, with a spacious porch and a big, overgrown garden and orchard. The house needed a general overhaul but was ready for a new locator (if he didn’t mind a leaking roof and some other things). The whole place was abandoned, off the beaten track (30 minutes by foot to the nearest small town), surrounded by forests and slowly rusting junk (last locators moved out very… quickly), the lake was shining in the morning sun. The place was ideal for some kind of a modern hermit.

“Yes, it’s perfect.”

The old agent took a critical glimpse at the buyer. He was young, was wearing some stylish clothes and looked like he was a perfect model for a fashion magazine. Or someone for a political meeting, not that the agent cared. His client’s private and famous life was not his matter and he was not going to stick his nose into someone’s business. He was simply concerned about the young man. At first, when the blue head entered his office and explained what he was looking for, the old man was sure the lad was simply bullshitting him. But then he watched the news and concluded the guy wanted a remote place to shot his pretty head. 

The agent was old, living alone with his wife and was patiently waiting for retirement. One thing he really didn’t need now, was a famous cold corpse in one of his sold houses. But it was not the only reason why he was concerned. He felt some weird kind of fatherly feelings towards this kid. Maybe because of the big, tired eyes too old for such a young man, maybe because of the sad smile or the calm melancholy that was hovering around him or maybe the agent was getting too old for this business. But he was damned sure it wasn’t a place for this kid.

He coughed. “We have bears here.”

“I have a shotgun.” The guy said flatly, looking curiously around.

“The last locators said there were some strange noises at nights and this house is uhm, haunted.” The agent tried his last card and raised his brows, when the lad chuckled.

“So, me and the house are going to be a perfect match.” The kid finally looked at him. 

His eyes were old, but there were some lively sparks too, when he smiled for the first time.

The agent sighed a little relieved. Maybe it was a perfect place for the kid after all.

*

Or not.

The first night was a fucking nightmare. Not because the house was haunted, but because it was full of sounds. Leaking tap, ringing old pipes, creaking bed and wooden floors, howling wind in the chimney, the sounds of trees branches scraping the roof and windows, mice scratching insides of the walls, annoying as fuck buzzing of the mosquitoes. But much worse was the overwhelming sound of desolation that was ruling the world outside his window. He was a Coordinator and he was used to the sounds of civilization. The humming of electrical facilities, roars of the cars, noises of the cities and people on the other side of the hotel room’s walls. 

Here he was perfectly alone. Other human beings were 5 clicks away, but it felt more like he was the last person in the universe.

It made him a little uneasy (not afraid of course, he was the fearless Justice pilot) but his gun was lying near him, just in case of bears and other creatures. 

Sitting on his bed, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, for the first time in his life he started to doubt his sanity.

When he left the ballroom he was sure of one thing – he wasn’t fine for a long time. He has spent so much time on trying to make others happy that he could not recall what he, Athrun Zala, really wanted. He didn’t want to be a soldier when he was a kid, not before the Bloody Valentines. Aside of building annoying toys and repairing things, what was his dream when he was a kid?

“Fishing.” He murmured starting the car. “I wanted to learn fishing.”

What a stupid and pointless dream of a child. Fishing. Good joke. Mighty Athrun Zala sitting with a fishing pole in one hand and a beer in the other hand, happily catching fishes when the world was falling apart… The problem was, the world was quite fine, for now at least. Was he really so stuck-up to think the world would implode without him on a sentry duty? Yes, he was, he thought and then chuckled. What about failing his friends? They were all in a much better condition than him. Maybe instead of worrying about them he should have stopped failing himself? 

The broken glass in his head was cracking loudly.

When he entered his apartment a plan with a code name “Fishing” was almost formed. He needed to stay alone for some time. Away from the world and his friends. As much as he loved them, their concern would only bother him and the whole plan would ended with him trying to make them not worried. And that was not an option.

And that’s how he ended in the middle of nowhere, in the old house full of mice, spiders, mosquitoes and his fucked up brain hunted by the past.

What he didn’t know at that moment, the house was really haunted by a ghost. But oh boy, he was going to learn about it in the very near future.

*

“You have… a nice view here.”

Athrun smiled a little, because it was the only nice thing she could say about the place. They were sitting on the porch on the back of his house. The mug she was holding was chipped. Sugar was in a metal can because he didn’t have a jar. The coffee table was wobbling. Grass outside was happily growing like a savannah. From the tall grass here and there, some old rusty junk was popping like mushrooms. The orchard looked like an enchanted scary forest.

And Zala was red as crab, disheveled and with a two-day growth. Miriallia Haw has never seen him like that in her life.

Athrun smiled, watching her. He was really glad that she was the one who has found him. The awkwardness that was caused by killing her boyfriend, has never disappeared and usually they were silent on their rare meetings. And he was thankful, because if it had been someone else, he would have to talk about himself and he really didn’t want to. With Miriallia they could just sit, sip the awful tea (yes, he sucked not only at being a hero but as a housewife too) and watch each other like hawks.

She looked good but a little… annoyed? Angry maybe? He couldn’t be a reason and there was only one person who could piss her off. In normal circumstances he would not ask and stick his nose into her life, but hell, he was trying to wave sayonara to his old self, yes?

“What did he do this time?” He asked.

“Who?” Mir asked confused.

“Dearka.”

She raised her brow elegantly. “Elsman? Why in the world he would do something?” 

Athrun just kept looking at her skeptically for a few minutes. 

“Nothing. He did absolutely nothing.” She finally said, having enough of his mocking stare. Since when could HE of all people, look at her like that? Lacus and Kira had some new creepy competition. Freaking Coordinators!

Athrun took a sip. Was it just him or did she sound disappointed that his blonde friend did nothing?

“Well, that sucks.” He said.

Mir blinked surprised. “No shit.” She said before she could bite her tongue. 

Then she looked at him more closely. He was different, but his careless look was not the only change. He was calmer and more relaxed than she remembered. Don’t get her wrong. Athrun Zala was known for his calm personality and keeping his feelings in check but now… Athrun didn’t try to look relaxed, he really was and that was something new.

“So, what should I tell the rest?” Mir asked him.

He tilted his head, like he was listening to something she couldn’t hear and finally said “That I’m as fine as I can be.”

Long after she had left his house, Mir realized she didn’t take his picture. 

Damn it!

*

In the small (population: 2098), drowsy seaside town only two kind of people have been living. The first one were old people, who have been living there all their lives and didn’t give a flying fuck about the world. The second were losers who wanted to escape the world.

The arrival of a new guy who bought the old, haunted house above the town was a local sensation. He was stalked by the watchful eyes every time he appeared on the street, heading for the weekly shopping. Usually he was buying food, beer (was he an alcoholic?), someone saw him walking with a new fishing pole. 

Some trucks with buildings materials were seen turning to the road leading to his house. It wasn’t so surprising after all, the house was screaming for a general overhaul. It seemed the guy was going to stay for longer. Some people made a bet about how long he was going to survive in the haunted house. He had to be tougher than he looked. 

The Coordinator was polite, always answered for the greetings but never stopped for talks and didn’t make friends. People got used to him and he stopped being the local sensation after awhile.

But then someone took a closer look at him, put two and two together, checked Neowikipedia and well, then shit hit the fan. The anonymous Coordinator became THE Coordinator. Someone called the media. Next thing he knew a famous journalist was knocking on his door. Then, The Coordinator opened the door and before the journalist could open his mouth, he said smiling:

“I believe you are on my private property.” Then he unlocked the shotgun that he was holding. “I’m counting to three. One…”

The journalist and camera crew got back to the car in a freaking two seconds. After the video was broadcasted, the whole world and the small town could spend some time on wondering if Mr. Zala suffered from PTSD.

The CRAZY Coordinator didn’t seem to care. He was coming down for his weekly shopping like he didn’t point a gun at the most famous journalist on the planet. 

And then he repaired the “broken since always” clock on the town hall. Fixed granny’s Meg unfixable washing machine. He made a Haro for Dean’s granddaughter and got fifty orders from every grandparent in the town. He was spotted talking with a group of fishermen (later they said he was a quite normal guy). Simple as that he became THEIR Coordinator and guiding the nosy journalists and paparazzi to local swamps instead of his house became a local hobby. 

Nobody was going to fuck with Their Coordinator. 

*

He opened the door half expecting a journalist (though they weren’t appearing on his doormat lately).

“My beloved, crazy friend!”

The blue head shut the door into Dearka’s face without a second of hesitation.

“Athrun, hey! Don’t joke like that. Seriously!… Don’t be mean!… Hey, come on!”

Elsman was crying under the door for some time, knocking and moaning. Then he sat on the wooden steps and sighed miserably after every ten minutes. Finally he got up and searched for a good place to take a pee. Then he noticed Athrun, who was sitting on the pier, fishing in the lake. The asshole used the backdoor to escape. 

“Since when are you a mean bastard?” Dearka sighed and sat near his awful friend.

“Since the first paparazzi I threw to the lake.” Athrun said flatly. Elsman wanted to laugh at the joke but one glimpse at Zala’s serious face and the laughter died on his lips.

Athrun wasn’t joking.

They sat in silence for a while but keeping his mouth closed wasn’t one of Dearka’s virtues. 

“So, fishing, huh? Shouldn’t have you caught something already? No? Hmm… Nice weather. But damn, man, you are living in the middle of nowhere…”

Athrun sighed painfully. “What are you doing here, Dearka?” He cut the monologue because his head was starting to throb.

“What? I’m visiting my pal, obviously! Jeez, why are you so suspicious?”

Zala slowly turned his head and pierced Dearka with a cold stare. The blonde head started sweating.

“Ok, Mir kicked my ass from her apartment and I didn’t know where to go. I’m on a leave and if I come back to PLANT Yzak will force me to work.”

Athrun sighed, drown his hand into water, fished out two bottles of beer and gave one to the blonde Coordinator. And he braced himself because apparently Dearka wanted to talk.

“Seriously, I don’t know what is wrong with that woman. I didn’t do a thing, I swear, I was behaving but suddenly she said she has had enough and threw me out! Can you believe it? ” Athrun could, but said nothing. “She did the same thing when we were looking for you. Everything went smoothly and BANG!, she kicked me out. Without a reason! Go and figure it out alone, she said.” Dearka imitated Miriallia’s voice. “What the hell is wrong with her and her hobby of kicking my ass out of her apartment?”

“Why won't you marry her?” Athrun said flatly, staring into space. 

He needed to weed his garden today. And he promised to make another Haro. Deep in his thoughts he missed the shocked look that Dearka was giving him.

“You… you think she will stop throwing me out if we were married?” The blonde asked dumbly.

“No, I don’t think so. The point is you are going to have your own fucking keys, so you can come back after she chills out.” Athrun sighed, wondering if Elsman figured out finally that Miriallia was just sick and tired of his “doing nothing style of life” and waiting for his move.

He doubted that but Dearka shut up finally, slowly munching information in his brain.

The fishing pole budged suddenly. Athrun, with an experienced move, fished out a trout from the water.

“We have supper.” He said.

Dearka stayed only for two days, because he couldn’t live without television (thank Haumea…). 

“Dude, what the hell happened with your TV set?” He asked, looking a little horrified at the destroyed facility. The monitor’s glass was broken by a… bottle of beer.

“Shit happens.” Athrun said simply, ignoring Dearka’s suspicious glare.

He was not going to talk about one beautiful evening when he was watching news and there was a commentary about Representative Athha and Prince Eriksson late meeting in the restaurant. In one moment he was holding his beer, in the next it was breaking on Mr. Eriksson handsome face. 

No, he was not going to mention that. And he was not going to say a thing about how he left his house a second after and jumped into the lake. Too cool his head of course, nothing else. He had a strange feeling that Dearka would jump to stupid conclusion if he heard this, so he didn’t say anything and kicked Elsman out of his house.

A week later he got Dearka and Miriallia’s wedding invitation.

*

Along with getting his house together, the sounds of broken glass inside his head was slowly fading away. 

In the beginning, the natural sounds that were closing him from every side were unnerving him, so he bought a stereo with awesome speakers, collections of classical rock discographies (Wagner and Chopin didn’t fit the smell of paint, sounds of tools and his cursing) and played it during his work. 

Later, when he started repairing and painting the outside walls, he moved the stereo out and just pushed the play button. The harsh sound of a guitar solo resonated above his house and lake. And he didn’t have to worry if it was bothering someone, because there simply was no one there. He was alone and he could do whatever he wanted.

It was a really nice feeling.

Some days later, when he was painting the porch, he realized he didn’t have music on. There was only him and the sounds of the wind. And he was ok with it.

Athrun slowly got used to the surroundings. He stopped jumping on every suspicious sound, stopped locking the door at nights and he wasn’t sure where he put his gun. Whatever. At nights he was dead tired and he was falling asleep a second after his head hit the pillow. No nightmares or ghosts from the past haunting his dreams. Finally.

Living in an exile exposed one unpleasant weakness in his character that could end with his… death. Namely, he couldn’t cook. Athrun and cooking equaled disaster (for his kitchen, for his stomach and for his toilet – unleash your imagination here… or maybe better not). After three months of eating combat rations, sandwiches, food from cans and ready-to-eat shit, he would kill for something normal. 

After spending years on being the spoiled Coordinator that was eating in the best restaurants, his first cooking attempts were… at least disastrous. Cooking books for idiots, cooking programs, videos on internet – nothing helped, he simply sucked at it and his digestive system would need hospitalization, if his skills would not improve. Apparently he was lacking something but he didn’t know what exactly.

But then Andrew Waltfeld appeared like a desert tiger from nowhere on his doormat and saved his suffering (literally) ass. Athrun had no fucking idea how the veteran soldier knew he needed help, but he wasn’t complaining that someone showed into his (more or less) ordered life and stayed there for a month. Athrun just sat, watched and listened to Andy, who during his years of being the notorious bachelor, mastered the magic skills of the frying pan and boiling water.

It emerged that Athrun simply lacked “imaginations, the pinch of insanity in his cooking and he stick to the recipes like a fly to a dog“. Whatever. Athrun really couldn’t get what the ex-soldier meant. Recipes were like orders, right? You needed to stick to them, no matter what. If they said 3/5 kilogram of flour, you added exactly 3/5. If they said you should bake it for an hour in 180C, you did it. Simple? No. Apparently cooking was a little more complicated. But after a month of Andy’s teaching he knew how to prepare the simplest dishes (without poisoning anyone). 

When he finally presented his fresh made pancakes that smelled (!), looked (!!) and tasted (!!!) like pancakes, he felt like his housewives skills have reached the top. 

The next day Andy vanished and surprised Athrun noticed that he was missing the old commander. He especially missed the times when they were together repairing a small sailboat that was left by the previous locators. Sometimes, they didn’t talk, just silently worked side by side. Sometimes, Andy was humming or talking about stupid, not really funny stories. Sometimes, he let Athrun talk and Athrun talked about everything that was eating his ass. And sometimes, Andy simply patted Athrun’s shoulder and said simple things like “Good job, kid” and Athrun remembered the long and lost past, these few, precious memories he kept about another man. That made him warm inside.

A rare and strange feeling, but he liked it.


	2. This destiny is mine

Well, he didn’t expect that.

“Hello, Athrun.” Lacus Clyne was standing on his doormat smiling tensely.  
“Haro broke and I thought maybe you could fix it… because… because…” The Pink Princess burst out crying and threw herself at him, hugging his neck tightly.

His brain stopped cooperating and he didn’t know what to do with his damned hands, so he patted her shivering shoulder awkwardly.

Later, when she was sitting in his salon and Athrun fetched her a mug of tea and a cat, that was purring on her knees now (stupid animal appeared one rainy day and refused to leave), he broke apart Haro and tried to figure out what the fuck was going on. With her and with Haro.

Looking at the broken “most annoying thing he made in his life” Athrun wondered if Lacus was aware that he made so many toys for her, because he tried to unknowingly compensate the lack of romantic feelings. Knowing Lacus, she knew that since the beginning, while he was living in sweet ignorance. Probably she broke up with him only to stop the incoming flood of Haros. He couldn’t blame her.

After meaningless chat about weather, nowadays political news and his vegetable garden, she finally blurted out what was wrong.

“Kira doesn’t want me anymore.”

Athrun almost dropped Haro on the floor.

“Kira doesn’t want you.” He repeated slowly and stopped the urge to roll his eyes. This was the most ridiculous idea he has heard since awhile.

“Yes. I didn’t notice at first. We had so much work and didn’t see each other sometimes for weeks.” She sniffed, stroking the cat’s fur. “He became distant, stopped saying he loves me every day.”

Every day? Athrun blinked.

“He’s been avoiding me for some time and doesn’t smile so often. We didn’t do IT for a few months.”

Athrun closed his eyes and massaged his throbbing head. He would happily keep living WITHOUT this crucial information.

“I think, he… got bored with me, you know… in bed, I’ve learned something new but…”

Athrun turned pale.

“But I didn’t have the chance to use it.”

He sighed with relief.

“Athrun, I think he has a lover.” Lacus big, baby blue eyes filled with tears and Athrun decided that Kira needed to suffer.

When she went rest to the guest room, Athrun sat before his dusty, rarely used videophone and called his best friend.

“We need to talk about Lacus.” He growled when Kira’s face appeared on the screen.

But before Athrun could continue, Kira turned “the miserable puppy” mode on and started a monologue about how Lacus didn’t love him anymore, how she was avoiding him, how she stopped smiling, how they didn’t do IT for months (he didn’t notice Athrun growling here).

The blue head wondered if it was some kind of not funny joke or something but when deadly serious Kira announced that he was sure Lacus had a lover, Athrun had had enough.

He probably should have played the role of a good and understanding friend but he decided to be the awful, horrible human being for once.

“You should simply beat the crap out of the lover.” He suggested.

“But I don’t know who he is!” Kira sniffed.

“You’re talking with him right know.” Athrun dropped the bomb and watched with satisfaction how his friend’s face expression turned from “the beaten puppy” to “the dumfounded puppy”.

“What are you talking about… It’s not funny Athrun, it’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, is it really? So, you didn’t get any hints?” He knew there were no hints, but Kira didn’t. And knowing perfectly how the jealous man’s brain worked, Kira should have jumped to some stupid conclusions.

Kira’s expressions turned from “the dumfounded puppy” to “the suspicious puppy”. Bingo.

“I’m really sorry to inform you that you are the one who wasn’t well, doing IT for some months.” The blue head said happily and watched vindictively how Kira shifted to “the puppy with the angry SEED mode on”.

“ATHRUN YOU!!!”

Athrun ended the connection. He probably should have felt horrible but surprisingly he didn’t. Instead he felt smug as fuck.

He looked at the clock. Kira should have came down there in three hours. Athrun just hoped he was going to fly there in a normal shuttle not in Freedom or things could get… explosive.

Athrun underestimated his best friend skills and anger. Yamato almost ripped off the front door two hours later.

“ATHRUN!!!” Kira was still in a SEED mode but the blue head managed to avoid his fist. Then he grabbed Kira’s shirt and started to drag his scrambling friend.

“Yes, my name is Athrun. Yes, I’m a bastard. And yes, I know you are going to rip my spine out, so shut up.” He opened the door to the guest room and showed Kira in without ceremony.

“Kira?!” Lacus gasped.

“Lacus?!” Kira cried.

“ATHRUN?!” They both shouted and looked at the blue head who growled.

“Please, do me a favor, shut up and just FUCK each other, for Haumea’s sake!”

He left his speechless friends, shut the door and locked it. They were going to solve their problems or starve there to death.

There was silence, then screams, a loud slap (good one Lacus!), more screaming, then crying and silence again. And then he finally heard some M rated moans and furniture started moving.

Athrun rolled his eyes and went to eat supper.

Five minutes later he left his house rather quickly because the sounds from the guest room were rather loud and a little too enthusiastic for his liking. He spent whole night sitting and fishing in his sailboat, cold, hungry and pissed off.

Damned Coordinators and their stamina.

In the morning he had made pancakes for the pleased and happy couple and after the breakfast he kicked their asses out from his house.

Two weeks later he received a wedding invitation. Staring grimly at the pink piece of paper with white pigeons all over it, he thought darkly that if the Coordinators were the future of humanity then humanity was doomed.

*

After two years, when he finished the overhaul, he realized surprised that he had nothing else to do. His house was new, with some improvements, like a super funky alarm system with cameras (thermographic cameras, night vision devices) and some motion detectors connected to the drones… Let’s say he was not going to be surprised by arrival of journalists (or his friends…) never again. The lawn was moved, garden weeded, orchard clipped, chickens fed, broken glass in his head was silent.

For the first time since his diapers he had free time. He felt like his life was over. What the hell people were doing with FREE time?

He didn’t need to work for money. The inheritance he got after his parents was going to be enough for the rest of his life. Plus he sold the patent for Haro toys and he just raised his brows every time he was checking his bank account, because yeah, a lot of zeros were there. He felt a little uneasy because the Haro army was conquering the world and he was sure there were a lot of pissed off parents who were hating the damned toys and thirsty for the blood of its inventor. But his house was well-equipped with a good defense system too (nothing splendid, some machine guns and two or three mines), so whatever.

So yes, he needed a hobby. He has his fishing but it was not enough. Athrun needed something crazy, because he realized the craziest thing he has done in his whole life (aside of trying to blow his ass along with Justice, of course) was singing Shake It Off under a shower. No comments, please.

When he was a kid, he was the polite and cute mommy’s boy, then the wars came and he had to save the world. Then he went mad and had the house to repair. He has never imagined that he could do something crazy and waste time for something entirely useless and not profitable. But now, why not?

So, Athrun washed curtains. Yes, he washed the curtains, please don’t judge him, he was new in the “crazy business”. Also, he was sure he did something useless but there was something missing. Athrun guessed that washing curtains was not crazy, just useless and boring as fuck. He deducted that craziness needed a pinch of fun.

“I’m 22 and I’m behaving like a retard.” Athrun murmured, dropped his boxers to the pier and jumped the lake. Absolutely naked, only a red stone was bouncing on his chest, in the middle of the night, under the full moon on the sky. Because, hell, why not?

In the beginning he didn’t find anything special in this activity but after some minutes he spent on drifting on his back, watching the night sky and listening to frogs… yeah, he could do things like that.

He was so proud of himself, that he returned to his house still naked and wet, holding the clothes in his hand. “Breaking the law, breaking the law.” He hummed one of his favorite classic rock songs, thinking about more crazy stuff he could do.

He has spent two weeks watching 10 seasons of some stupid serial. He made 38 liters of liqueurs from fruits from his orchard (and drunk some of them…). He bought a guitar and has learnt how to play (and he was quite good at it). He smoked some… things… and might have called Cagalli (he really didn’t remember). He played golf, standing on the pier and hitting balls into mannequins that were drifting on the lake (some of them were strangely looking like one, very famous Scandinavian prince). He got a tattoo. One day he just woke up and decided to climb up the nearest mountain.

He’s spent a few days on building a black Haro. The toy was connected to the alarm and defense system and was working as a watch dog - it could recognize a friend or a foe. It was bouncing suddenly form the grass, in front of the guests and squawking “Herrrro!” with some creepy and dark voice (pussy intruders should have run away at this moment). If the program recognized the person as a friend, the black Haro hid, if the guest was unknown it was bouncingly leading the way, if the person was a foe – Haro would try to break intruder’s nose.

One day he remembered that the only thing he really liked while operating a Gundam was flying. So he bought a hand-glider. High in the air, alone, with the landscape spread in front of him, he really was freed from everything.

*

Athrun knew he was coming (the security system was working perfectly). Before his guest could press the button, he opened the front door. Without a word he gave Yzak a chopper and lead him to the back of his house.

Sitting in a rocking chair (he probably looked like an old geezer, but he didn’t give a shit) and sipping beer he watched as Yzak was angrily chopping wood chunks like a pro.

Athrun knew that the media in PLANT had been eating Joule’s ass for some weeks, because of some unpopular decisions he had to made. The ZAFT commander literally kicked some high-ranked asses out from ZAFT, because of a big corruption affair. Too bad the assholes were sons of the well-known and powerful families whose opinions had a great influence on the media in PLANT. Not that Yzak cared of course, Athrun was sure the silver head didn’t give a damn and would gladly beat the crap out of the idiots again.

The ex-Justice pilot had to admit that Yzak Joule was a far better soldier than Athrun ever was and fit perfectly in his ZAFT’s commander rank. Yzak simply knew what he had to do and has never doubted his abilities. He was hot headed and his anger eruptions were famous but his subordinates would go through fire and water for him. They simply knew Yzak Joule was the right man in the right position and would never allow himself to make a wrong decision. Athrun admired him for that. And yes, he was a little jealous of him, but he would never admit that.

So yes, the shitstorm in the media was not the reason why Yzak was murdering chunks of wood with crazy passion.

The problem had womanly roots, because Yzak Joule didn’t know how to deal with the only two women on this planet (and space) he talked to– his mother and his fiancée. Athrun knew the pain. After the incident with his TV set and the beer bottle he spent some days on chopping wood, and believe him, there was nothing better to clear the head of murderous intentions.

A few hours later Yzak finished and sat on a chair beside Athrun. He was tired, sweaty, his back hurt, he had blisters on his hands but he was calm.

Athrun gave him a beer and waited.

And Yzak started to talk, incoherently, about the damned women in his life. From the chaotic narration Athrun concluded that: A) Ezaria was forcing him to take the Chairman of PLANT position (and Yzak really didn’t know how to say no), B) he didn’t know how to ask Shiho on a date, so she got tired of waiting and asked him herself, but he refused (because of his damned pride), she got pissed off and Yzak had no fucking idea how to fix it.

Athrun would laugh, but he was sure that Dearka had teased Yzak’s ass sufficiently already. Athrun on the other hand, was the silent type of friend who was listening patiently and trying to find solutions without stupid comments or dragging Yzak to a strip club (Dearka’s style of friendship, not bad but not always welcomed). Because yes, as strange at it seemed to be, they considered themselves as friends (though, they have never admitted that to each other, no fucking way). They just… got each other without words. Yzak was always blunt and strait-forward with him, never failed to tell him how stupid he was and Athrun was grateful for that. He had a strange impression that Joule understood him even better than Kira. After his escape, all friends were overwhelming him with calls and emails, but Yzak kept quite. Athrun suspected that the ZAFT commander simply knew that he needed time.

They were both watching the sunset, like two old geezers.

“When was the last time when you disagreed with your mother?” Athrun asked. He was a little confused, because Ezaria was a strict parent, but she knew how Yzak loved his job and would never asked him to give up his ZAFT duties.

Yzak shifted uncomfortably. "A month ago, I refused to buy a damned suit.”

Athrun was silent for a moment. “And you said a direct “NO” to her, or you just didn’t buy it, without informing her?”

“What’s the point of this interrogation, you bastard?!”

Athrun smirked. “So, she doesn’t know. Haven’t you considered the possibility that maybe she tries to make you grow some balls to finally say NO to her?”

A vein on Yzak’s forehead started to throb and he opened his mouth to throw some insults but, surprisingly, he said nothing. Because, deep inside he knew that Zala was right.

“Did you just insinuate that I don’t have balls?” He grumped finally.

“No, Yzak, I’m sure your balls are fine… and blue.” Yzak growled. “I’m also sure Shiho is very found of them.”

“Do we need to talk about that damned woman?!”

“You prefer talking about your balls?” Athrun raised his brows.

“MY BALLS ARE FINE! Better than yours, you celibate bastard!”

Athrun gasped. “You mean, you want to help me with that?” He stared seriously and deeply into Yzak’s eyes.

Joule turned pale and then… Athrun burst out laughing.

“Point taken.” He said happily and took a sip.

“YOU!!!” Yzak jumped to his feet and was ready to throw one of his famous tantrums.

“Seriously, can’t you just say you are sorry, that you were a fucking idiot and want her in your bed?” Athrun said calmly before Yzak would start an insulting, never-ending monologue.

“I’m not sorry and I don’t want to have sex with her!”

“Of course you don’t... You should buy her flowers.”

“I’m not buying this woman flowers!”

“You came for a cookie?” Athrun asked.

“I don’t want a damned cookie!”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

Yzak blinked confused and then heard some noises behind him. He turned around and…

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!” He screamed and jumped to his chair.

“Raccoon, Yzak, raccoon.” Athrun said, as he took a cookie from the plate and extended his hand to the new guest.

The animal ignored the ZAFT commander, who was standing on his chair, and slowly approached Athrun. Then it took a cookie from Athrun’s hand and started to eat it.

“Yzak, Ghost, Ghost, Yzak.” The blue head made an official introduction and gave another cookie to the animal. The raccoon took it gently between his teeth, turned around and slowly made its way, still ignoring the human standing on the chair.

“Was that vaccinated?” Yzak watched it leaving suspiciously.

“Of course, Joule, like all wild animals, it was vaccinated.” Athrun voice was full of sarcasm.

“Thank God, I’ve heard wild animals spread some awful diseases.” Yzak finally got down from the chair, still watching the raccoon.

Athrun didn’t comment. Yzak’s knowledge about the nature, like all Coordinators, was limited.

“How the hell did you befriend it?” Joule’s eyes were wide when he finally looked at the blue head.

Athrun slowly took a sip of his beer.

On his second night in the house he heard some noises. Something was stomping on the roof, on the porch and under the house. There were scratching and squeaking noises and one time he was sure something was in his kitchen, but nothing was there when he checked it. Then the electricity broke down, so he just came back to his room, locked himself in and well, didn’t sleep a whole night.

The next day he fixed the problem with electricity but the damned noises kept him awake again, but this time he caught a glimpse of a furry tail on his porch. Apparently, the infamous ghost was alive and kicking.

On the third night, he felt like a really pissed off zombie and was on the verge of going back to PLANT. When the noises started, he has had enough. He caught a broomstick and started hunting the damned furry bastard. He spent his night half naked, running after a freaking raccoon, screaming, cursing and informing the damned animal, that he was going to catch it, skin it, kill it and chop it to pieces.

Mission, of course, failed as fuck.

In the morning he was sitting on a porch, dirty, with bloody scratches all over him (he ran into some bushes a few times) and dead tired. He was munching on cookies – the last edible food left in his house. And then, bushes shivered and Athrun saw the reason for his misery, not so far away from him.

Without thinking he threw a cookie at the animal. The cookie landed inches away from the raccoon. The animal didn’t run away just sniffed the cookie and ate it. Then looked at Athrun and sniffed the air. Athrun slowly threw another cookie, this time closer. The animal approached it and ate it. The Coordinator threw him another and slowly reached for the broomstick.

“Come here you bloody bastard, I’m going to…”

But then the raccoon sat on his back legs, sniffed the air, crinkled his black and wet nose, made an entreating sound and looked into Athrun eyes…

After 10 seconds of staring deeply into each other eyes, Athrun gave to the raccoon all his cookies and felt ashamed he didn’t have more. A few days later, in the morning Athrun was drinking coffee on the porch and Ghost was sitting beside him, eating his cookies. After Athrun started to feed it, the animal stopped disturbing his nights.

But Athrun was not going to say a thing about it.

“It just came and… stayed.” He said simply and a little awkwardly.

Joule looked skeptically at the blue head but said nothing. Zala looked… good. Before someone got a fucking wrong idea, because Yzak was not swinging this way!, he meant that Athrun Zala for the first time since he met him, looked relaxed, calm and at peace with himself.

Yzak always knew that Zala thought too much, tried too had and put too much on his own plate. He was making a freaking martyr of himself. Athrun was a shitty soldier but a good man. The bastard has never seen that, always looking down on himself and it was making Yzak angry like nothing else. Nobody had the right to trash Athrun Zala, except for him. End of story.

He cleared his throat. “Are you… fine?”

Athrun, sitting on the rocking chair, with his legs leaning on the railing, was watching the sunset. He took a sip of his beer.

Broken pieces in his mind were slowly falling into their places.

“I’m getting there.”

*

ZAFT Commander Yzak Joule officially denied the gossip he considered the possibility of becoming the next PLANT’s Chairman. He also confirmed he is engaged to Shiho Hahnenfuss and the wedding…

“I think Athrun is getting weirder.”

Luna shifted her eyes from the TV screen and looked at her husband. They were sitting on a coach, watching news. Shinn was furrowing his brows, staring at the laptop on his knees. Luna leaned on to him and took a glimpse of a short email.

Luna & Shinn  
If you have any relationship problems, please find a marriage guidance counselor and LEAVE ME ALONE.   
AZ  
P.S. Tell Mey she was right about the slugs.

Before she could comment something else caught their full attention.

Breaking news from Orb. On today’s press conference, Representative Cagalli Yula Athha announced that according to the plan, the reconstruction and rebuilding of Orb from the damages caused by the last two wars are going to be finished in two years, thanks to the close cooperation and union with Scandinavia. What shocked almost everyone was her statement, that after these two years she is going to step down from her position and terminate her political career. The Orb Princess refused to explain her reasons. Some analysts speculated again about her possible marriage with Sven Eriksson…

*

She came with the dawn, like she always did

He was lying on the pier, with one hand under his head and his eyes closed. A fishing pole was in a holder, because he was too lazy to keep it. Some time ago he realized that an ancient Zen master was right - fishing was not about catching the fishes but about something else.

He heard her barefooted steps and his heart clenched with anticipation. Then the scent of lilies of the valley came to him, as she sat silently beside him. She made some noises but he kept his eyes shut, waiting.

There was some clattering, humming, whistling of the fly line cutting the air and a small splash when the bait hit the water. Apparently, she came with her own fishing gear.

Then she lied her head on his stomach.

“For how long are you going to stay?” He asked and entwined his fingers with her hair, caressing them gently.

She purred like a cat. “Three days. Kisaka will come for me on Monday.”

Three days. So many. So little.

“So, what are we going to do now, huh?” She sighed happily.

He smiled. “Nothing. Or pray that no fish is going to bite.”

She chuckled and it made him warm inside.

*

The first time she came, he caught her while she was digging in his fridge. He entered the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks at the view of her ass sticking out of the fridge. For few seconds he was sure he was hallucinating. But then she straightened up and shut the door.

“Yoh!” Cagalli gave him a critical look, noticing two-days of growth on his face and scruffy clothes. “You look like shit.” She informed him happily and came closer. “But I’m not so surprised since you eat shit. Never heard of vegetables, you dumbass?” She stopped in front of him and caressed his cheeks.

“Said a woman who would eat nothing but kebabs if she could. What are you doing here?” Athrun blurted out.

“You know, you look good with it.” She said fascinated, massaging his cheeks with her thumbs. “I came for a housewarming party, duh. I brought champagne but I’m not entirely sure if it suits your luncheon meat, instant soups and corned beef. ” Cagalli grinned. “So, care to give me a tour around your kingdom?”

He gave her the tour, explaining what he needed to do in the next months. She was listening, making some suggestions about the best color of paint for the walls and watching him carefully, when he didn’t pay attention to her.

And she liked what she saw.

Then they had their pathetic party. The next morning, when he woke up, her side of her bed was already cold. He sighed regretfully, trying to catch her fading scent and got up. In the bathroom cabinet he found her toothbrush. Dumb thing gave him more hope than anything she could say or promise.

A week later Andy visited and maybe it was not a coincidence after all.

The second time she came, she helped him with painting the rooms and gave him a heart attack when she almost fell off the ladder.

He didn’t ask about the Scandinavian Prince Charming, the sounds of the broken glass in his head were too loud. She didn’t comment on the broken TV set.

The third time she came, they did something wrong in the bathroom.

“I think we damaged the main pipe.”

“You think?” She said sarcastically watching how the gazer of cold water was gushing from under the bathtub.

The fourth time she came, he tried to teach her fishing, but she was absentminded, tired and irritated. She stayed only for half of the day.

Sometimes he wondered, if inside of her head a broken glass was also cracking. Probably. But he never asked.

The fifth time she came, they argued and screamed at each other like never before, unleashing all things that were boiling inside of them for years. Her wedding with Yuna, returning the ring, not answering his calls. His leaving and betrayal. Why she was keeping coming back if she clearly didn’t intend to stay with a loser like him? Why he had never asked anything, just kept judging her by his own, damned standards? Why the hell he had to be so selfish?!

The last straw was when he screamed what he was thinking about her and Mr. Sven Fucking Eriksson. He saw her hand coming but he let her slap his face. He deserved much more than this. Then he just left her and threw himself to the lake, with the image of her hurt eyes and pale face in his head. When he finally got out of the water she was long gone.

A few weeks later, he may or may not have, because he still wasn’t sure, called her after he smoked some… things. After two days, when the unicorns and singing pineapples finally had left his room, he checked his email box. There was a short message from her.

You are an idiot.

So yeah, he called her. Damn.

The sixth time she came, he was pissed off. He was kneeling near his lettuce patch and cursing loudly. A herd of freaking deer threw a party in his garden last night and apparently the animals were really found of his poor lettuce. Now he was trying to save some half-eaten remains.

He was so occupied that he noticed her only when she stopped beside him. He swallowed his curses, ignored her and kept working.

“I didn’t know you had such a nice voice and artistic soul. Singing pineapples? It would break the music charts.” She said after awhile and felt satisfaction when the back of his neck turned red. “I’m sure you’ll be happy as hell when you hear I recorded your whole performance.”

Athrun made a strange noise. Something between a sigh and a moan, but said nothing.

“Well, I showed it to Sven and he agreed you were splendid and he really wants to meet you now.” She smiled when he growled. “He also said I have a wonderful taste in men, and he knows what he's talking about…” Cagalli held her voice and Athrun felt how a vein on his forehead started to throb dangerously.

“Because he’s gay.” The blonde head dropped the bomb.

Athrun dropped a bunch of lettuce on the ground.

“He is also a very good friend and we like to spend time together. Too bad he has to hide his preferences because of the conservatism in his country.”

“Oh.” Athrun finally managed to mutter something.

He WAS an idiot.

“Can you please hand me a spade?” He asked after a few humiliating minutes.

Without a word she gave him the tool and knelt beside him.

They worked silently side by side, when he finally found some guts to ask a very important question.

“Did I… say something more during that, uhm, call.” He asked sheepishly, not entirely sure if he wanted to know.

“There were ten minutes of singing about unicorns, rainbows and pineapples.” Athrun sighed painfully. “Five minutes of crying into your beer, oh, and you removed your shirt.” Another sigh. “And well, some minutes about saying how much you love me, how sorry you are and how fucking stupid you were.”

And the award for the most humiliating call in the history goes to Mr. Athrun Zala!

“By the way, I accept your, hmm, stoned apology.”

He looked at her hopefully. “So you will delete the recording?”

“Not a chance.” Cagalli grinned and threw a lettuce at his face.

The seventh time she came, he suggested a night swimming in the lake, without clothes of course. She agreed without a second of hesitation. When they were removing their clothes she spotted a red stone on his neck. She tugged it and looked into Athrun’s eyes.

“Do you still have my ring?”

He blinked. “Um, yes.”

“Good.” She grinned and pushed him to the water.

The eighth time she came, he realized finally that he was dealing with his past by learning how to live his life without regrets, while Cagalli was repairing her country, so the ghost of her father along with responsibilities she inherited from him, could rest in peace. So she could be free.

*

“Hungry?” Athrun Zala opened his eyes and yawned.

“A little. I bought ingredients for… ”

“Kebabs.” He finished and rolled his eyes at her poor taste in food.

She simply chuckled, jumped to her feet and held out her hand.

Cagalli’s hand was slim, warm and soft, while his was rough, cool and big. But they fit together perfectly.

One day, all of the broken pieces in his head were going to fall inplace for good.

One day, he was going to open the door and she was going to stand on their doormat, smiling softly.

And she was going to stay with him for good.

  
THE END


End file.
